


Yours, Mine, Ours

by sporadichearttcollector



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Damn, Fluff, its just andreil being soft for 1200 words, let andrew emote 2k19, thats it theres no plot, this is the first thing ive written in three years that wasnt klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadichearttcollector/pseuds/sporadichearttcollector
Summary: “I don’t need your protection,” He says, wrapping a hand around Neil’s wrist. “My resting bitch face gives me all the protection I need.”





	Yours, Mine, Ours

**Author's Note:**

> my global issues class is boring so i spent it writing this instead. its unbeta'd and has far too many commas but im a tired college student so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> insp:  
> [link](https://creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/184086790583/prompt-436)  
> [link](https://the-moon-dust-writings.tumblr.com/post/160809528719/one-line-prompts)

           Andrew idly wonders when the idiot in front of him was going to shut the hell up, having already sat on one of those spinning chairs without a back on wheels jacked up as tall as it can get, zoning out for the last five minutes in lieu of listening to some twink try (and fail miserably) to hit on him. He glances around the library for a head of auburn hair, already coming up with several creative guesses of what kind of trouble Neil Josten could get into in the twenty minutes he had spent away from Andrew.

           “I just really feel like we would have fun, you know?” The guy, bleach blonde, covered in piercings, and  _ not taking the fucking hint _ , leans even further into Andrew’s space, and he seriously considers just stabbing him with one of the knives hidden in the black bands stretched over his forearms. 

           “I don’t think he does,” comes Neil’s voice from behind Andrew, and suddenly his body is close enough to Andrew’s that he can Neil’s body heat. Andrew takes it for the question it is, and leans back into him, allowing Neil to slide an arm around his waist and rest his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “I know he doesn’t care, so why don’t you just fuck off.” Andrew knows the exact way Neil’s lips are pulled up, even without looking. He knows just how icy Neil’s blue eyes look, and how if the clueless stranger doesn’t leave, Neil will open that pretty mouth and verbally murder him.

           Andrew knows all of this because he has seen it happen a billion times, although never in defense of Andrew like this. Regardless, watching  ~~ his ~~ Neil making the light leave people’s eyes with just his words is one of the few things Andrew allows himself to enjoy, and the stranger has already shown to be an idiot, so he settles against Neil’s chest and waits for the show.

           He almost frowns in disappointment when the guy shows his first spark of intelligence for the short time Andrew has known him, and mumbles some kind of apology before skittering off, disappearing into the stacks of books.

           Andrew turns his head slightly, arching one eyebrow at Neil. 

           “I don’t need your protection,” He says, wrapping a hand around Neil’s wrist. “My resting bitch face gives me all the protection I need.”

           Andrew watches Neil’s eyes crinkle slightly around the edges and his lips turn into a real, fond smile, and Andrew has to pretend not to notice the warmth that spreads through his own chest at the sight. Neil squeezes his torso very lightly, and tilts his head to just barely brush his lips against Andrew’s cheek.

           “Yes,” Andrew murmurs, rolling his eyes at the way Neil blinks once, twice, then presses his lips together and searches Andrew’s eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitance. Andrew releases Neil’s wrist, turning in his arms, and leaning in close enough to bop their noses together. 

           He  ~~ loves ~~ hates how Neil beams, and gently rests his hands on Andrew’s upper waist before leaning in and just barely bringing their lips together. 

_            Infuriating little shit,  _ Andrew thinks.

           Four years of truths, four years of  _ yes or no _ , four years of their nothing, has brought them to this level of trust and comfort with each other. 

           Five years ago Andrew wouldn’t have hesitated to stick a knife in someone’s gut for touching him like this.

           Now? He wraps a leg around Neil’s skinny waist, and tugs him closer so their torso’s press together, nipping softly at Neil’s lip, one hand reaching up and pressing against Neil’s pulse to feel the thundering heartbeat that matches his own.

_            I  _ ~~_ love _ ~~ _ hate him,  _ Andrew thinks.

           “I know,” Neil says against his lips, one thumb skimming maddeningly along the ridge of Andrew’s hipbone and spreading heat through Andrew’s skin. “I just missed you. Wanted him to go away so I could do this.” He slowly, gently, moves his head under Andrew’s chin and presses a kiss to his neck. 

           “378 percent,” Andrew slides his hand into Neil’s hair and struggles through a breath. Much to Andrew’s disappointment, Neil leans back and just smiles at him, all soft and fond. The words just tumble out of Andrew’s lips before he realizes what he’s saying

           “Quit smiling at me, I can’t think straight when you look at me like that.” 

           Andrew’s vague embarrassment is worth the way Neil’s whole expression changes, eyes widening, lips parting in shock, and hands curling oh so carefully into the fabric of Andrew’s shirt. Neil opens and closes his mouth a few times before sputtering out, “I’m not quite sure  _ straight _ is a good word choice when in regards to you.” Andrew snorts, feeling his lips quirk up the tiniest bit at the corners. “It’s probably not even grammatically correct to use  _ straight _ in a sentence about you.” Andrew lifts one shoulder, not taking his eyes off of Neil’s.

           “‘ _ I can’t think gay _ ’ doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Andrew says, tilting his chin up, ignoring how warm his face feels, and tugging Neil back in. “Kiss me.” 

           Neil enthusiastically complies.

           Eventually they pull apart, Neil resting his face against Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew loosely looping his arms around Neil’s waist. Andrew glances down at Neil’s shirt, sifting through his memories for when he might have bought the shirt. He blinks a few times before asking Neil, “Is that my shirt?” It’s a rhetorical question, Andrew very clearly remembers purchasing the shirt for himself a few months ago, but he asks anyway. “Junkie, did you steal my shirt?” Neil snickers quietly into Andrew’s neck before pulling back slightly to answer.

           “It’s not really stealing. More like borrowing,” Neil quips.

           “Do you intend to give it back?”

           “No.”

           “So, stealing?” Andrew pokes Neil in one of his ticklish spots, drawing a soft laugh from his chapped and slightly kiss-swollen lips.  

           “What, like you haven’t stolen at least four of my hoodies?” Neil smirks.

           “For that to have happened, you would need to own at least four hoodies,” Andrew points out. “And since you are a junkie with a Tragic Backstory, that is not the case.”

           “Hey!” Neil feigns offense. “I have three stolen hoodies from Matt, two from Kevin, and I’m pretty sure Allison has snuck four designer one’s into my bag in the last  _ month _ . Not to mention my team hoodies.” Neil gives him a toothy grin. “I might have more hoodies than you.”

           “Lies,” Andrew leans in and kisses Neil soundly on the lips. “All of your hoodies are, by default, mine.”

           “Yours, mine, ours?” Neil says, getting that stupid look in his eyes again. 

           “Shut the fuck up, Josten,” Andrew murmurs. “And stop looking at me like that.”

           “Like what, huh?” Neil teases.

_            Like you’re in love with me, _ Andrew thinks.  _ Like I’m something precious. _

           “Like an idiot,” Andrew says.

           Neil gets what he means. He always does. 

           Andrew  ~~ loves ~~ hates him. So much.

           “Yeah?” Neil reaches up, and ever so softly cups Andrew’s face with his scarred fingers. Andrew’s cheeks warm considerably. 

           “I hate you,” Andrew hisses, but turns his head slightly to press a kiss to Neil’s palm anyway. 

           “You say the sweetest things,” Neil croons, leaning in to rub their noses together. Andrew takes advantage of his close proximity, and kisses him. 

           They may or may not be kicked out of that particular library for making out in the corner for two hours.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://sporadichearttcollector.tumblr.com/)   
> 


End file.
